


Dreamscape Strangers

by Symmet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas tries to be helpful, I suck at this, M/M, and Sam is a teenage girl, domestic-ish sam, dream creeper Lucifer strikes again, i really suck at this, in which Dean is entirely done with everyones crap, its cuz he has a crush on Dean shhHSHSHHHH, kind of a Coma!fic, really slow burn, slowburn, super slow burn, with a lil angst, yay for angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 15,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Sam and Dean don't split up. Sam relates that he's been having dreams about Jess one morning, and Castiel investigates and puts some spells on Sam to try to prevent Lucifer from getting into his dreams, but something goes awry. Now Sam is trapped in his own mind with the devil. He just has to survive long enough to wake up… <br/>But not everything is so simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Jess and Sam conversation taken from Free to Be You and Me transcript.)

__Sam tried to sleep, but it felt like he was trying to push a mountain instead of climb it to get to the other side. He lay there, wrestling his mind which wouldn't stop working, but eventually gave up. It was when he sat up that he saw her._ _

_Jessica._

_”Hey, baby." She said gently._

_Something twisted in Sam's gut. Something cold, a painless memory of pain, an ache to remember exactly how she looked before._

_Before the fire._

_"I missed you." She added. For a moment he still couldn't think._

_"Jessica. I'm dreaming." He said with a start._

_"Or you're not. What's the difference? I'm here."_

_Sam felt something inside weaken, "I miss you so much."_

_She tilted her head sadly, "I know." She reached out, took his hand._

_It was almost warm._

_"I miss you too. What are you doing, Sam?"_

_He frowned, "What do you mean?"_

_She smiled sadly, "Running away. Haven't we been down this road before?"_

_The small cold thing in Sam's gut spread, "No. It's different now."_

_"Really?"_

_He turned away, "last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I'm a freak."_

_Her voice echoed over his shoulder, "Which is all a big ball of semantics. You know that."_

_Sam's other hand clenched, "No."_

_She continued, "Even at Stanford you knew. You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down, maybe, but you knew. Maybe that's what got me killed."_

_He looked up, horrified, "No."_

_"I was dead from the moment we said hello."_

_"No." and the cold is in his chest, ice splintering into his heart._

_"Don't you get it? You can't run from yourself. Why are you running now?"_

_He ignores it, how numb he's becoming, "Why are you here, Jess?"_

_"Would you believe I'm actually trying to protect you?" She said quietly._

_He didn't want to, "From what?"_

_She looked up, "You. Sooner or later the past is going to catch up to you like it always does. You know what happens then?"_

_Sam looked down, felt his blood slowing as it becomes frozen, as the ice seeped into his arms and legs._

_"People die. Baby, the people closest to you die."_

_He waited to see it happen, felt all the ice shatter inside him, but nothing changed._

_Nothing ever changed._

_"Don't worry because I won't make that mistake again." He said, but it was hollow._

_Her voice cooed, "Same song, different verse. things are never gonna change with you. Ever."_

_When he looked up, she was gone._


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stared glumly at the coffee. The liquid is so brown it's black, and the warped, rippling, reflection stared back at him, and it gave him just enough time that to see he looked terrible before Dean walked in, took a step back and then cautiously said, "Well _hello_ beautiful. You look like you need some more beauty sleep, emphasis on the beauty. Or the sleep. Neither can really hurt your chances at this point.”

Sam sighed, shook his head, and couldn't even muster up a come back.

That was when Dean realized something was off. He took a hesitant step forward and then yanked the coffee out of Sam's hands, to a slow reaction of "Hey!" and then one pathetic swipe in Dean's direction.

Dean made a face and dumped it down the drain before sitting across from his brother.

"When was the last time you actually slept?" He said carefully.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know... I stayed up to do research on the Adam's house, last night -"

"You did that last week. We finished that job."

Sam blinked. "Oh, yeah." But then didn't add anything.

Dean started at him, "Okay, how about going and getting some sleep, gorgeous?"

Sam frowned, "Nah, I'm fine."

Dean pursued his lips. He knew what it was like to avoid sleeping because of nightmares. He couldn't do anything about that. But maybe Castiel might know something.

"Ok, you just sit there and look pretty, because you're obviously not trying, and I'll go see if I can find anyone who can help when your brother turns into a vegetable." He said, sliding out of his chair. Sam didn't even make an effort to reply.

Dean took a look back and started praying immediately once he saw Sam make a half-hearted attempt at reaching for Dean's coffee across the table to no success.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean, I do not have time to see if Sam has had any nightmares and remedy-"

Castiel stopped when he saw Sam sitting, vegetative, on the couch, staring at wall. Castiel scrutinized him, then turned his head to see if there was, in fact, anything feasibly entertaining on the wall.

There apparently wasn't.

He stepped forward and kneeled by Sam's legs, to a blink of acknowledgement, and held Sam's chin to look at him, getting not so much as a flinch in return.

"Sam, why aren't you sleeping?" Castiel pressed in his serious, grave voice.

Sam sighed, "Been having bad dreams." he said faintly, eyes back on the wall.

Castiel frowned, "About what?"

Sam seemed to shrink, "Jess."

Dean started, and Castiel turned to look back at the elder brother, who shrugged and made a face.

Castiel turned back to regard Sam, "Is it about her death?"

Sam's fists clenched at his sides, and while he didn't seem to notice, Castiel and Dean tensed, "No. She just wants to talk."

He looks at Castiel, then, and those eyes, red and adorned heavily with unhealthy flesh underneath, sharpen for just a moment. "She said I can't run away." He whispered, but then they become dull again, and return to that enigmatic spot on the wall.

Even Castiel is unnerved.

"Perhaps you were right, Dean." He murmured, to a distant and sarcastic, “Lucky me.” from behind.

He stood up and faced Dean, "I believe Lucifer is tampering with his mind. I will need to try to block him out."

Dean's relieved stance against the doorframe melted away, "Wait, what? _Lucifer_?”

Castiel turned to regard him dangerously, "Yes."

Dean opened his mouth as Castiel started walking out, "The hell are you going?"

"I'm going to collect the necessary materials."

"What do I-"

Castiel turned sharply to look him in the eye.

"Don't let him fall asleep." He advised, and was gone with the tell-tale whisper of wings in the air.

Dean coughed in annoyance and ran back into the room to find his brother, tilting over but still resolutely staring at the wall.

He sighed, then yelped and went to catch Sam when his brother started pitching over dangerously.


	4. Chapter 4

"I do not know that it will protect you." Castiel warned, two hours later, "The powers of an ArchAngel are very strong." 

His words did not seem to be effecting the dull eyed Sam, which caused Dean to roll his eyes from the doorway. Castiel seemed to sense this, too, and reached out to grasp Sam’s chin and turn it so that Sam was looking blearily at him. 

“Sam, do you understand? Once the spell is complete, nothing lower than me in rank can get through, but I don’t know that it will be completely effective on Lucifer. It will certainly be activated, but you need to know that once it is done, I will not be able to visit you in dreams, either.” 

Sam seemed to hear it from a far way place, as if he were underwater. He gave a jerky nod, made more so by Castiel’s hand, which he didn’t seem to realize was strange. Sam didn’t seem to mind either. 

“S’not like you do, so…” Sam mumbled, to which Dean shifted uncomfortably and Castiel nodded seriously as if this were a sign of Sam’s consent. 

“Very well.” Castiel said, leaning back and finally taking his hand with him. Sam leaned a little forward without the support, which caused Dean rush and steady him, sharing a look with Castiel. 

Castiel sighed, “It is decided.” 

Before they commence, Castiel makes Sam recount his dreams with Jessica. It’s weird for everyone but Castiel, Bobby mumbling about needing to get back to the phones after a couple minutes. Any reservations Sam would have had are displaced by his inability to think, but as it drags on, Sam forgets words and lapses into silence in the middle of sentences. 

Either way, it’s upsetting for Dean and he has to leave several times when he can’t handle it. 

He wants to punch Lucifer in his fucking face for saying this shit to Sam. For hurting him like this. For taking advantage of his guilt. Eventually, while he’s pacing around the house, Bobby looks up from one of his older texts - Mandarin? - and covers the mouth piece of his phone, telling Dean to get some air before he wears a damn hole in the wood. 

So he goes out for a couple hours and comes back to find that it’s just finishing up. Castiel is helping Sam get up out of his seat when Dean arrives. 

He is instructed to lead Sam to a bed. 

Dean is worried but he won’t make his brother stay up any longer - Sam sure as hell nodded off often enough during the ritual, he has no doubt about that. He finally acquiesces after a pause and a gruff “Thanks, Cas.” and guides his swaying moose of a brother - _“Watch the bookshelf!”_ \- to a bed, letting him collapse on the mattress without a word. 

Dean sighs. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around Sam, and to his surprise, gets a thankful grunt. He pats Sam on the shoulder, “Atta boy, Sammy.” before forcing himself not to hover and walk out of the room. 

When he walks out, he sees that Cas is already gone - typical. He stands in the middle of the room for a moment, lost. He spots his coffee, which might as well be dumped down the sink, now, too, and sighs. 

He’ll make some more and check if Bobby is off the phone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sam_

For one moment Sam is walking in a forest. Not a scary one, not a particularly beautiful one, either. Maybe it’s more of a wood? It’s the dry season, so everything crackles underfoot, and the green has hidden away under the earth.

He vaguely recognizes that he hears birdsong - under his feet. When he looks down, however, the ground is black. Not black black, just everything looks like its charcoal, burnt into oblivion. But he can hear the birdsong so he supposes its not too bad down there.

This is all he does, because he only has a moment. He doesn’t know he only has a moment - it is a dream. Time so loves to lay itself out in dreams, because it knows it won’t be appreciated properly. Then the moment is over.

The dreams shakes. Not the world, not the trees, not the birdsong. The dream. Sam’s perception of what is happening shakes. Shudders. Shivers. The collective whole of the dream rattles around like a broken signal on a TV screen. He can hear the birdsong, continuing as if it hasn’t been interrupted, wavering from far away and then pushed up close, because thats how dreams are. It’s a commercial being beset upon by outside forces. The TV is experiencing problems. Sam knows because he is watching it. The TV knows because color spots and noise are dancing over it’s glass. The episode playing does not. It continues running, unaware.

Sam hears an awful noise.

It feels like a scream, but also like rock being cracked open. It’s a groan echoing through his head. Black scars permanently etch themselves across his vision, following wherever he looks in panic. The scream is building, up and up, the edges of his dream are dissolving, the birdsong is still there, trapped under his feet.

The sound ends abruptly right before everything is gone.


	6. Chapter 6

It was in a bar. Sam sat quietly, nursing a shot, when a young girl walked up to the man who sat next to him and flirted. Or tried to with limited success. 

He politely declined twice before she pouted, "Aww, don't you wanna go on an adventure?" 

He snorted, "I think you might be too young for _adventure_.” 

She giggled, which was altogether unappealing, Sam thought, “Aww, I'm legal." She quipped. 

The man snorted again, "Sorry, not in my book." He waved her off and she retreated shooting him a look. 

Sam would have forgotten the encounter, except the man, looking dubiously at his drink, took a sip and made a disgusted noise. 

Sam laughed before he could help himself. 

The man turned to look at him, pointedly. Sam should have sobered up, but it was making him think of Cas trying stuff out for the first time. He grinned, "Not your poison?" He said in a friendly tone. 

The man frowned, "I don't... no. I don't think so." 

He put it down. Then after a moment pushed it away. Sam watched with a small smile playing on his lips. 

“I don’t think I much enjoy alcohol,” was his final conclusion on the matter. 

Sam raised his eyebrows, “Wow, must have had a good life.” 

The man’s gaze zeroed in on him with such sudden intensity it made Sam feel uncomfortable. 

“What makes you say that?” Said the man, never looking away. 

Sam shrugged, breaking eye contact, “I don’t know, it’s just, most people drink to forget, you know?” 

The man’s gaze fell away, nodding as he took in this information. A great spotlight fell off of Sam and he felt instantly grateful. 

“It sounds like I must have liked it at some point” comes a tired sigh. If Sam weren’t a hunter, he’s not sure he would have caught it. 

“What do you mean?” He asked lightly. The man’s gaze returns, but now it’s mellow, and Sam notices his eyes are a favorable shade of blue. He was a slightly haggard looking man, scruff evident and unattended, and he was dressed in a rumpled grey jacket, a faded green shirt, and worn jeans. 

“I don’t know.” He said simply, but he almost smiled, eyes glittering in dark humor. 

Sam frowned and took a sip, but doesn’t press. After all, it wasn’t his business, right? 

The man seemed to regret his earlier statement, because he looked down, arms crossed on the counter, fingers clenching into fists. Sam felt like he must be slightly drunk, because he was acting very strangely. The man swallowed, then looked up, catching Sam in his gaze again. This time it’s somewhere in-between - urgent in an almost endearing way. Because he looked like he was in need of help, and that’s exactly what Sam wanted to do. 

“I don’t know who I am.” 

“What do you mean?” Sam murmured, surprised. 

“I mean, I don’t know how I got here. I just was. Am.” The man’s breath is almost too steady, and Sam would have called bullshit but the man’s eyes are flicking around, and he’s strongly reminded of a hunter, casing their surroundings, making sure of all possible exits, gaze straying suspiciously to people that may or may not be a threat. He finally returns to stare at Sam, tense. 

Silence met with that. Sam blinked, his gears working to understand. Normally, he might have shrugged it off as a weird thing - but in the case of the Winchesters, nothing was ever just a coincidence. The man’s eyes never leave him, desperate and worried. Finally it clicked and Sam took another drink before he slid off the stool and slapped a couple bills down - for himself and his new friend. 

“Alright.” He said with a shrug, while the man watched him like a lost puppy, as if he thought Sam was abandoning him. Luckily for him, Sam had a weak spot for dogs. 

“Let’s see what we can do.” Sam said as he nodded towards the exit. 

The man stared at him, not understanding, or perhaps not daring to. Suddenly his head sharply tilted, eyebrows creasing, “You’re going to help me?” 

Sam inclined his head, “I’d like to, yeah.” 

The man leaned back a little, as if he was taking a second look at the tall man offering him aid, looked around the rest of the room. But none of these faces meant anything to him, so he got off his seat smoothly and they walked out. The air outside was cool and fresh and sharp. The air was also wet, because it had just rained, Sam realized with a start. The cars drove by lazily, yet their lights flashed by in a blur. 

He continued walking, because he knew where he was staying. Something in the back of his mind niggled about the fact that he was staying alone, but the man tapped him on the shoulder and he forgot about it. 

“Yeah?” Sam said as he turned to face him. 

The man murmured a soft “Thank you.” quietly into the air, but it warmed up inside Sam’s heart. 

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t even done anything for you.” He said with a smile. 

“Most people wouldn’t bother trying.” 

Sam frowned, slowing so that they walked side by side, “I don’t think that’s true. Most people are pretty willing to help others.” 

The man frowned, “I guess… I can’t really say, can I? I don’t have any memories.” but he didn’t seem convinced. 

Sam watched him quietly when suddenly something occurred to him, “Hey, do you remember your name, even? Or is everything a blank?” 

The man sighed, “I don’t… no I don’t know my name. I don’t know where I’m from. I don’t even know what _that_ thing is.” He nodded to a Chuck E. Cheese. Restaurant, where a man dressed like the mousey mascot was still attempting to convince people to go in. 

“Chuck E. Cheese.” Sam answered unhelpfully. The man looked at him, and for a moment, Sam felt like an asshole who was making fun of his predicament. _I’m so fucking insensitive_ , he thinks in disgusted shock, but suddenly a small smile flickers on the man’s face. 

“I’m going to assume that terrifying rodent is meant to attract children, huh?” He said. He looked back at the pictures of grinning children eating pizza blown up and covering the building, illuminated by the neon signs. 

Sam grinned, “Yeah. Which makes you wonder why they’re still open.” 

The man turned back to him curiously, “Why?” 

Sam raised him eyebrows but then answered, “because most kids go to bed early. It’s pretty late.” 

_Eightish_ , he decided. The man looked up at the sky, “Eight forty-seven.” He mumbled to himself, but before Sam could comment, he added, “The pollution is awful, here.” Sam looked up, “Yeah. We’re kind of dicks about the environment. It’s gonna bite us in the ass some day.” 

The man looked at him softly, for a moment, then looked away, “I concur.” 

The serious wording of the statement reminded Sam suddenly of Castiel. Out of the corner of his vision, the man must have seen Sam smiled, because his own smile was slightly self-congratulatory as they walked along. 

“We’re almost there.” Sam added a moment later. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key as they walked up to a motel. “In town for long?” The man asked, “Nope.” Said Sam. And it was as simple as that. 

When they got to the door, Sam turned to him suddenly, “We should give you a name until we find out your real one.” 

The man nodded slowly, “Okay.” They waited in silence. Sam flushed a little, “Um, so what do you want to be called?” 

The man’s eyebrows raised in shock, “Me? Why do I have to do it?” 

”It’s _your_ name.” 

“Did you get to name yourself?” 

Sam frowned, “You don’t want to?” and the man stuck out his tongue, giving the largely unhelpful answer of, “Boo.” 

Sam sighed as he opened the door. “In the morning, then. By the way, there’s only one bed, so you can take it, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

As it turned out, the man was incredibly stubborn. He refused outright. Unfortunately for Sam, he was also very stubborn, and before the dawn had dripped golden through the cheap, plastic shades, they were both laying on the carpet. 

Sam would quietly count it as a win for himself because the bed wasn’t big enough to accommodate him comfortably anyways.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dean_

Sam didn’t wake up the next morning. 

Or the next. 

Or the next. Dean started praying on the second hour. Castiel answered during the third. 

By the forth, they knew for sure.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam_

“Advena is Latin for ‘stranger’.” Was what Sam was prompted with when he woke up. 

He blinked blearily at the man, who sat across from him, criss-cross apple sauce, which was strangely comical for a grown man yet looked perfectly natural for him. 

“Okay.” Sam said slowly, sitting up. He knew that already, although he didn’t need to say so. 

The man frowned. “That’s what I am, right? A stranger? That can be my name.” 

Sam chuckled, getting up. “You didn’t stay up all night coming up with a weird name for yourself, did you?” 

He acutely felt the man frown behind him as he made coffee. 

“Is it weird? I wouldn’t know.” It sounded not only slightly put off, but rejected. Sam sighed. He was being insensitive again. His running theory was that he was what was left over from an Angel using him as a vessel. Which meant the poor schmuchk’s predicament was very likely his fault, seeing as he was the one who’d caused the Apocalypse. He turned back to the man. 

“It’s not a very American name, but I’m sure you could pull it off.” 

The man nodded as he was handed the crappy plastic cup of motel coffee. A moment later he stared down at it as if suddenly realizing he’d taken it. 

“What’s this?” He asked curiously. 

Sam gave him a strange look. “Coffee.” 

“Oh.” 

The man stared at it for a longer moment before he took a sniff. Sam suddenly realized he didn’t know what it was. He was such an idiot. Of course he didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t just assume what had stayed and not stayed in the man’s memories. Amnesia - Angel induced or otherwise - was weird like that. 

“It’s a drink. It’s got caffeine in it to help people wake up.” 

The man’s expression knitted for a second before recognition opened it up. “Ah.” He said, before he suddenly frowned, looking back up at Sam, “Isn’t caffeine a drug?” 

Sam gave him a strange, contemplating look, amused but curious. 

“Yeah. It’s funny that you remember that instead of coffee.” 

“It’s hilarious.” Was the sarcastic retort, “Also that I know latin but not about people dressed as mice, tell me, I forgot to ask last night, is that a common thing, and am I expected to interact with them on a regular basis?” 

Sam grinned, and even though the man was joking, he also knew he wanted an answer, “No, you can ignore them, and they aren’t considered a thing of importance to American society.” 

“Fantastic.” The man said, after scrunching his face at the taste, then setting the coffee down as he got up, “I am vaguely aware of what a shower is. Can you point out the basics before I attempt to not drown myself?” This was said almost without a hint of embarrassment - the only thing was he refused to meet Sam’s eyes. 

Sam instantly became sober, putting his coffee down - it did taste like shit anyways - and walking towards the bathroom, “yeah, sure…Advena.” 

He knew the man paused at that, then followed him silently but gratefully. 

Advena it was, then.


	9. Chapter 9

The next couple of days were quiet, but entertaining, something they both needed. Sam kept the TV on, sure to keep close watch on the crappy channels so as not to ruin Advena’s “introduction” to American society. Luckily for them, it seemed Advena was disgusted with it anyways, and much preferred the news - or what passed for news. They also learned that Advena was familiar with Spanish, although not especially interested in those programs, either, snorting derisively when he watched a love triangle unfold _como un rosal_ or something. He _wanted_ to learn, but he didn’t seem overly impressed with what he got. Sam got a sinking feeling when he returned from groceries to find Advena had started a list of all the people who had died, gotten injured, or been tricked financially in some way as reported from the news. 

After that the TV was mostly left off, to Advena’s dismay. 

“You are going to come out with me into the world. Do you want to see people or learn about them through a box?” Sam says, putting some sparse groceries on the tiny “kitchen” counter. They would be leaving this place behind them in a day or so, anyways. Sam had finished a hunt the other night. 

“Box.” Advena instantly answers, half, Sam is sure, because he knew it was the wrong answer. 

But he has more reasons to get Advena out than leave him in - Advena had been poking around his stuff, and while Sam can’t blame the curiosity, he does have to defend against it - he doesn’t want Advena to find a cache of hex bags and knives and get himself hurt. 

Or become terrified of Sam. 

He realizes now that maybe his morality might have made a bad judgement call on this one - this might backfire on him like Hell. 

Another thing he notices is that Advena seems to be preset to not only distrust people, but assume (occasionally rightly) that people do the wrong things. Sam doesn’t know what made him like that, but he finds he has to argue in order to restore faith in humanity on a regular basis. 

It’s just another strange thing about Advena that neither of them get to figure out.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam decided to drag Advena out for grocery shopping. 

“Wow, a very life changing experience I’m sure.” Advena had quipped childishly when Sam had turned off the TV. “Come on.” Sam had said, and even though he’d been half afraid Advena wouldn’t listen and would just continue watching, he’d been relieved to find the ragged man closing the motel door behind him. He looked ridiculous in Sam’s clothes, but once again, it was slightly endearing, and he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Also clothes shopping.” Sam said suddenly, and Advena grinned at him. 

Slowly, he’d been getting Advena’s personality to open up. It wasn’t all stiff and muted like Cas was - not that he didn’t love Cas. Sam thinks it’s the shock. He’d met Advena seconds after he’d suffered the amnesia, they’d pieced together. 

Besides being sarcastic, Sam thinks he’s softening into something warm and pleasant. He’s not much for people, but he seems surprisingly loyal based off their few excursions - he always seems to be trying to protect Sam from others, which is as adorable as worrying. 

“They’re not doing anything.” He chided Advena once while he was taking him for a walk. Advena had been staring what Sam knew to be daggers at a group of girls sitting at a coffee shop further down the street. “They’re wary of your height.” Advena informs him confidently, “Maybe they should try getting taller and stop judging others.” 

Sam had shaken his head, refusing to smile, because most often, according to Advena, it seemed people were cautious of Sam’s height. “C’mon, you.” He’d said, making them cross the street and head towards the park. Advena seemed to enjoy nature more than people, perhaps because his last - if not necessarily conscious - memory involved birdsong. They couldn’t be sure. 

Now, however, they walked towards a JONS, and it was late afternoon. This was the second grocery trip, and Sam was hoping it would go faster - Advena’s questions, which he was happy to answer, had multiplied with every new product, it seemed. 

Ironically, trouble didn’t occur until they were just barely out of the store. It was darker now, but Advena had been surprisingly well behaved throughout the endeavor, and for that Sam was thankful. It seemed like a successful trip for only a few minutes before _something_ bad was bound to happen. 

Which it did. 

A yelp - a panicked one - was heard in the parking lot, and without a word, Sam dropped the bags - carefully, because eggs - and jogged over. It was in his nature. He did it without thought. “Stay **here**.” He’d softly called as an afterthought to a frozen Advena as he dogged through the parked cars in search of the noise. 

A young boy was being confronted by a man. With a knife. Sam yelled out at the man, “Hey!” because that was usually enough to freak out criminals and send them running. If not that, then his height would do the rest. 

Not the case, this time. Instead of encouraging the man to run, his eyes widened at Sam’s approach and he pulled out a gun. 

Typical. 

The boy immediately began to panic, “please, please, please don’t hurt me oh my god, please -“ 

“Shut up!” The man hissed, pointing the knife feverishly at the boy, gun lopsidedly aimed at Sam. Sam was about to take advantage of the distraction but he didn’t have to - the man suddenly flinched and collapsed forward. 

Advena was standing, in a cliche fighting pose, where he had fallen. Except Advena looked _**different**_. For a moment, like a warrior. 

Almost like something other than a man. 

The boy took off running, without a word, and Sam sighed, “I thought I told you to stay there?” 

“He was going to hurt you.” Comes instantly. Sam paused and Advena blinked, not backing down, and Sam finally relented, “Thanks.” 

Advena nodded, fists dropping. Sam said quietly,“You left the groceries out front, didn’t you?” Advena nodded again, as if he was suddenly coming down from the adrenaline and realizing what he’d done. 

"I...don't think I'm human." Advena said blankly at the man he had knocked out with such ease. 

"Yeah, or you're a secret monk." Sam supplied, pressing down a little nugget of fear. 

But he knew that even if you weren’t human it didn’t mean you were evil. Or vice versa, obviously. Sure, the odds were stacked against you, but that’s what made the good monsters so much better then the rest of them. 

_That’s what made a freak like me so awful_ , a smaller part of his mind echoed _because I’m human but look what I’ve done_. 

Advena walked forwards a little a prodded the man with his shoe, all evidence of the warrior gone. 

Advena looked up to find Sam attempting to tap down a small smile, but it was resistant, like a blanket caught in the breeze, and its own easy mirth caught Advena off guard, prompting him to return it. 

Naturally, it was enough to make Sam give up and just grin at him. Which in turn lead to Advena grinning, too. And they stood there like a pair of idiots, grinning at each other for who knew how long before they heard a shout, seeing the unconscious man at Advena’s feet and they both bolted, forgetting the groceries. They didn’t know it was a police man who the boy had run into, but it didn’t matter anyways. Sam didn’t have any ID for Advena on him, and he wasn’t looking forward to explaining that he was making a fake one when he did. 

Even when they had run into the safety and seclusion of a park, paused to catch their breath, one of them started laughing. He wasn’t sure which, and it didn’t matter in any case - they were both choking on their burning insides. 

“We’re fucking idiots.” He gasped out, which made Advena laugh harder. 

They’d left the groceries behind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dean_

"Wait, so what happened?" 

"It seems that in attempting to prevent Lucifer from getting in, he has now decided to prevent Sam from getting out." 

"Cas, what are you saying?" And it's dangerous here, and they know it. 

"Or perhaps he is too weak to relinquish the spell." 

"Okay, buddy, you are going to slow down and explain that in bite-sized terms, you got it?" 

Castiel pursed his lips and sighed. 

"From Sam's recounting of his dreams where Jessica visited, it seemed as if the dreams ended specifically after Lucifer had shared what he wished to and not before. Once he'd imparted whatever he'd wanted, the dream ceased, and Sam woke up, regardless of the time or hour." 

"So you're saying Satan controls when Sam wakes up. _If_ he wakes up." 

"Yes, but Lucifer would not want to keep Sam asleep for too long, lest he reveal his attempts to manipulate, or kill Sam by preventing him from eating and -" 

"So why the hell isn't he waking up!?" 

"The spells were not a 'hit or miss' as you say - they would certainly have had some effect on Lucifer's ability to intrude on Sam's dream. It seems he still managed to get in, but that isn't to say his power isn't severely weakened. Perhaps he is no longer able to consciously end the connection." 

"So Sam is stuck and the Devil is stuck, and you locked everyone out who is your rank or lower so you can't even get in. Is this what you're saying to me?" 

"I made a... plan ‘B’ as you call it, in the event something happened and I was not able to lower the prevention spell in time. There is a way for Sam to manually end the dream and expel Lucifer if Lucifer is indeed weak enough. We will need to collect some things, first." 

Dean sighed, caught between relief at some viable option to pin his hopes on and anger at the situation. Usually, anger would have won out, because it was easier to give in to, and easier to follow, but he caught sight of Castiel standing there like a miserable kitten who had accidentally lost his toy under a couch where he couldn't follow, so Dean sighed and threw up his hands in acquiescence. 

"Ok, Cas." He said, "What do we gotta do?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sam_

They go from town to town. Sam is adamant about not letting Advena follow him into bars where he plays pool to earn money, and Advena is usually okay with allowing it as he doesn’t enjoy bars and as long as he’s allowed to watch TV. 

Sam gets him books and lets him read the newspaper after Sam is done with it. 

Advena hates Dr. Seus, _hates_ Shakespeare, loves Euripides. It’s insane. 

It’s fantastic. 

Sam goes on hunts, but they’re few and far between, sporadic because he doesn’t forget Dean so much as forgets to remember he’s not there, and he doesn’t want Advena to be freaked out by him. 

It seems like Advena is just a permanent friend and he’s okay with that. He teaches Advena about hunting - not real hunting - and fishing and baseball and tic tac toe and rubix cubes. Advena likes and hates the rubix cubes. Just like he likes and hates Flappy Bird. He knows it’s addictive, looks down on people who can’t stop, then is furious with himself several hours later when Sam comes back and reminds him that he’s in the same position as when Sam left. Sam doesn’t mind - as long as it keeps Advena occupied. And it’s kind of hilarious - maybe even adorable - the way Advena realizes what happened and becomes infuriated with himself. And Sam kind of loves it. 

Advena imparts strangely specific trivia from time to time, surprising himself just as much as Sam. He has no answers about where it comes from, simply that it’s there. The amount of ducks that migrate on average every year since 2002 to the present day. How many marbles could fit into a stadium in New York. Where the sweatshop that made their clothes is located. How to do advanced origami. The best way to treat whooping cough. Where sandals originated. The names of the plants lining the front of the library. 

When they go to the library Sam checks the databases for anyone matching Advena’s description, but of course it’s an almost ridiculous attempt, taking far more energy that it’s worth. 

He’s about to get off the computer and see if they can find a nice organic restaurant or something - Advena quickly turned out to be more on the vegan side, and Sam would take what healthy-eating company he could get while it lasted. Then, he shrugs and does a quick search for strange deaths in the newspapers. He frowns at the screen, then leans back to look over to where Advena had abandoned - finished, more likely - the classic reading section and was currently inspecting the ‘Teenage Fantasy’ section. Sam grinned to himself at the idea of Advena mistakenly looking at vampire romance novels and trying to understand their existence in the world. 

He turned back to the screen and re-read it. But five deaths, each one occurring every three years within a week of each other? And one disappearance in a following three year trend. Seemed like a case, and if he was quick, he could get it done tonight. 

He saw Advena walking towards him, a book tucked under one arm, a serious look of bafflement on his face. He grinned, hitting print and scooting out of his chair and closing the window as quickly as possible. 

“Find anything?” Says Advena somewhat hopefully. 

“No. Looks like you did, though.” He said, indicating the book under Advena’s arm. To his immense delight, Advena pulled out what indeed turned out to be a copy of Twilight. “What the hell is this.” Advena said flatly. 

“It’s a fantasy teenage romance.” Sam supplied with a grin as he picked up the papers from the printer and folded them in his pocket, “With vampires. That sparkle.” 

In disgust, Advena declared they should leave. He found no argument from Sam. 

Later that night, he slips out to go investigate - a man had died when he tripped over his three year old son and fell down the stairs. The family - what was left of it - packed up and left. Whenever new inhabitants came, after three years, the ghost would strike again - apparently on the week of his son’s birthday. 

Sam wasn’t even sure the ghost had much of a reason to kill anyone, other than it was resentful and had no one to blame. It turned out to be a pretty easy salt and burn, especially when the ghost showed up at the graveyard and hurled him a couple feet. Okay, not especially, but at least when he kicked his lighter into the grave and the ghost dissipated, he didn’t have to go back and check whether or not it had worked. 

He groaned slightly as he got up, even though he was enjoying himself. His ass smarted, but other than that, he was good. He dusted himself off, walking over to the edge to look in - mournful of the lost lighter. All in all, it seemed like a successful hunt. 

But naturally, he was wrong. Nothing was ever simple or easy for Sam Winchester. 

Advena had followed him. 

He’d seen everything.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam is staring down at the burning bones when he hears it. 

The quiet, deathly soft, “Sam?” 

It freezes him inside, and he whips around, too guilty for his own good. 

Advena is watching him with dull eyes, gaze flicking down occasionally to the flames lapping hungrily in the grave. There is silence except for the fire, crackling merrily below. Sam opens his mouth but Advena beats him to it. 

“So I suppose that one time you met a woman at the bar I guess you killed her, huh?” 

Sam swallows, is furious with himself when he hollowly answers, “Kind of, yeah, considering she was a vampire.” 

He remembers dinner earlier that night, spent laughing about romance vampires verses the good ones. Advena had had no clue, of course, that Sam was speaking from experience. 

The way Advena’s mouth twists as he looks away makes him realize with a sick jolt that Advena is thinking about it, too. 

Advena nods, not numb, but something like it, “It’s funny how much you argue for them.” He says softly. 

Sam looks away, “I don’t kill people.” He says hoarsely. 

“They used to be people, Sam. They’re just people who made choices.” 

Sam looks up in surprise, because Advena doesn’t think he’s murderer. He knows he’s a hunter. “You’ve been going through my stuff.” He accuses without bite. 

Even so, it makes Advena flinch. Suddenly he doesn’t hold as much power over Sam, even though his guilt isn’t something Sam was trying to find. Advena doesn’t answer. 

“Not choices they chose.” Sam says, deciding to say the self-contradictory statement with confidence. 

Advena suddenly smiles, although in the ghostly light it looks fractured, “Life is full of choices we didn’t choose, Sam.” 

Sam is eerily reminded of Lucifer in that moment, but it’s gone the moment Advena looks worn out again. Sam had slowly discovered how peppy Advena could be. Now he’s back to the beginning, the first few days Sam knew him, as if the world and it’s mysteries are too much for him. 

It makes Sam ache inside that he caused that. Advena’s hands are stuffed in his pant pockets - he hadn’t grabbed his jacket because he hadn’t known what he was doing when he followed Sam, and now he was probably freezing. He looks upset, or nervous, and Sam assumes _he’s_ causing the discomfort, but what Advena says next throws him off, as if he’s been trying to find a way to ask it for a long time. 

Shivering slightly in the cool air, shoulders drawn up to guard his neck, hunched against the cold moonlight, Advena finally blurts out, “Do you think I’m human?”


	14. Chapter 14

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sam says slowly. 

“I’m different.” It’s not said with the inflection of caring, the way Sam used to as a child, more as if he prefers to be different from people, thank you very much, but the way he suddenly looks exposed catches Sam off guard. He only cared if Sam cared. 

“How much did you read?” Sam says with a sigh, picking up the shovel and starting towards Advena with the intention of getting them home. 

Instead Advena flinches away and Sam freezes. He feels cold wash over him. 

“Sam, I didn’t -“ Advena says in alarm. Sam curses himself because Advena looks devastated. Because Advena thought he was _threatening_ him. 

Fuck. Advena is scared of him now. 

He looks away because he doesn’t know how to proceed. He can’t just walk away - Advena doesn’t have anything. He didn’t even fucking know how to brush his teeth, doesn’t know how to use an ATM machine, wouldn’t get along with people long enough to get a job. So Sam takes a deep inhale through his nose, not looking at Advena. 

“It doesn’t matter to me if you’re human or not as long as you don’t hurt people.” Sam finally forces out, tamping down his tongue to stop himself from saying that he would never hurt Advena _either_ but stops himself because he’s obviously threatening enough that Advena is spooked by him, no matter how wretched that makes him feel inside. 

The fire has eaten itself out and extinguished into lazy smoke behind him now, he knows from experience, from years of watching with Dean and long ago, Dad. 

Suddenly the air is shoved out of him, and for a moment he is about to fight back out of impulse, out of years and years of being a hunter trained into him, but suddenly realizes as he stumbles from the impact and stops them from falling into a smoking grave - Advena is hugging him. 

Immediately he drops the shovel and hugs back, almost without giving himself permission to. 

Luckily, Advena can’t see his face and it’s dark out anyways, but he’s blushing a little. 

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Advena says, “I wasn’t -“ 

“I’m sorry, too.” Sam cuts him off, determined not to hear, “I’m sorry I kept it from you, but it’s…it’s so much to take in, you know? Like you don’t have enough to learn.” _I was so afraid of you running away from me._

Advena sighs, taking a step back. Which is good. Because it was all slightly awkward. He’s not used to hugging people who aren’t Dean or Bobby. 

“I don’t want you to…” Advena starts and then shrugs, “I’m weird. I get it. I’m okay with that so long as you are.” 

Sam recognizes what he’s trying to say. “Advena, I was never in any position to judge you.” He said quietly, “I’ve done bad things. _Really_ bad things. I’m a hypocrite for hunting bad creatures when I can’t even control myself.” 

Advena shrugs, “Sam, I’m gonna put this bluntly - you’re the most human person I know.” 

Sam can’t disarm the grin that builds on his face, “I’m the _only_ person you know.” 

Advena shakes his head, serious but unable to argue, “Shut up. I know this, okay? It’s one of the things. I’ve never met a human like you. I’ve never even met a human that I liked. But you’re different.” 

Sam sobers up, too, choking on the words inside, _but I’m not really human anymore_. He shakes his head, “That would be because I’m a freak, Advena.” 

“Aren’t we all?” Advena says casually, bending to pick up the shovel, “Come on, you’re going to tell me if you have any theories about what I am.” 

Sam picks up the kerosine and shrugs as they head to the parking lot, “Well, you’re not a demon, because I’ve slipped you enough holy water that your sweat is probably holy.” 

Advena nods, a fake frown as he does so, “Not bad, not bad, any others?” 

“Not a vampire, unless you’re into blood?” 

“Not even remotely ever.” Advena shudders at the idea. 

“Don’t know if you’re a werewolf for sure yet, but I’ve tested you with silver, so that’s probably a good sign.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

“To be honest, at first I thought one thing… but if you’re not human it’s probably not possible.” 

“You gonna tell me what it is?” 

“Nah, I think you’ve had enough surprises for one night.” 

Advena accepts this, and shoulder to shoulder they walk back to the car.


	15. Chapter 15

They come up with nothing. Sam declares that Advena might be a demigod or a pagan god but the way to test that is to see if what would normally cause a lot of harm to humans would do nothing to him, which he is not eager to pursue and _definitely_ not tell Advena about. 

It falls into the backs of their minds as Sam talks about his family - fucked up but proud. Advena likes to listen to his stories, even if he is not particularly sure whether he likes the people he describes or not. 

Sam stops telling the story when he gets to Dean dying. He’s too ashamed of what he became, of what he let himself do, and if Advena assumes that he’s mourning Dean, Sam doesn’t correct him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dean_

Dean carefully brings the box of ancient pressed cherry blossoms inside. He has no idea what the hell Cas needs them for, but he doesn’t know what half the stuff is, either. There’s a jar of suspicious goop and what might be an eyeball peering through the murky haze at him. Also a fang that Cas informed him gravely was from a sabretooth tiger. 

Dean was pretty into that until Cas also told him it would be crushed for the spell. There was a surprisingly small cup of holy oil, a candle, various other animal things - some of which looked to be a bag of pellets, as in Owl throw up poop or whatever - some old chalices, a drop of blood encased in crystal, and a cloak that seemed to change color subtly in the light. 

Also a fat book of ancient writing Bobby had pulled out at Cas’ request. 

They began to set up, Cas leading the whole thing, and Dean trying not to feel weird about it. Whatever _it_ was. 

Sam was on the couch, silently surveying the entire ordeal from dreamland. And Lucifer, too, he guesses. 

An hour later they’re ready. 

“I warn you, I won’t have much time. Is there anything you want me to tell him?” 

Dean regarded Castiel in surprise. That was strangely thoughtful - not that Cas wasn’t thoughtful, it was just… 

Whatever. 

“Besides to get his ass out of there? No, s’okay Cas.” 

Castiel nods seriously. 

Dean looks up briefly from where he holds two giant marbles in place on the pentagram - Castiel holds one as well as one of Sam’s hands, draped over the couch, and Bobby holds the other two - “Thanks, though.” He mumbles right before Castiel’s eyes begin to glow and he knows he’s not with them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sam_

Sam had decided that after all the crazy crap with the hunting and Advena maybe not being human, it was time for a break. Specifically because Advena had been trying to bring up learning how to actually hunt, something Sam adamantly refused to do. He didn’t know why, but he knew it was very strongly selfish.

In any case, to distract both of them, when they got to the new town and Sam saw that a carnival was being held, he didn’t let the opportunity pass them by. As long as they avoided any clowns - an experience he would never subject Advena to - he was sure it would be a measurably fun time - if not that, then definitely an interesting one, for the both of them.

When they connect, it's through a cat doll that is supposed to meow when you pull the string.

Naturally, when Sam pulls it and what comes out instead is a grave, "Sam." He drops it in half shock, half horror.

Advena bends to pick it up, bemused and curious, and the voice continues, "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam blinks, memories slowly drifting back to him through his dream, and he recognizes it, "Cas? Seriously, is that you?"

"Sam, I don't have much -" At this point, the string had slowly finished being wound back into its original position.

Sam looked at Advena, who shrugged, "I don't know man, it's _your_ weird cat doll friend."

Sam fumbled, since it was still in Advena’s hands, then tugged on the string again.

"- dream. Now, listen carefully -"

Dream? It suddenly clicked. Sam was dreaming, and Advena was stuck in it with him. That was why he couldn’t remember the last time he saw Cas or Dean. That was why Advena didn’t know who he was.

He cut off Castiel, “Wait, how do we get out of here?"

"...We?"

Sam looked at Advena, who shrugged again, unhelpfully, Sam might add, and he sighed.

"Yeah, my friend Advena is here. Is Dean okay?"

Castiel sighed frustratedly, "Sam, I just -"

Sam pulled on the string again, " - you, this is a dream. Anyone else in there is from your subconscious."

Sam turned to regard Advena, who was making a shocked and upset face of indignation, but Castiel was continuing.

"The only other real sentience in there is Lucifer."

That caught Sam's attention, making him snap back to the doll.

” _What_?” He hisses.

"Yes, Sam, so lis-"

Sam didn't even pause, drawing back the string harshly, "- to me, the only way to wake up is to find Lucifer and-"

"Find him!?" Sam cut in horrified, "Shouldn't I be doing anything else, like, uh, running in the opposite direction?"

"SAM. He is weakened by the spell. All you have to do is force him out."

"All I have to do." Sam repeated somehow both weakly and sarcastically.

"It can be as simple as telling him to get-"

But when Sam dragged the string back, all that came out was a series of pitiful mewing. Sam shuddered and grabbed it out of Advena's hands and dumped it back among the piles of other dolls.

"More of a dog person, I take it." Advena said casually.

Sam scowled, "What the hell was that all about?!"

Advena shrugged, not looking at him, "Well _I_ can't tell you. According to Mr. Serious Cat voice, I don't even exist."

Sam looked at Advena, who regarded the fairgrounds around them coolly, his hands stuck in his pockets.

"Oh my god." Sam said, "Are you upset?"

Advena stuck out his tongue at Sam, "Excuse you, when was the last time you were told the reason you have no memories is you are _literally_ a figment of someone's imagination by a cat doll? Screw you, by the way, if that's true." It ended lightly, but it was feigned.

"Hey." Sam said suddenly, stopping. He grabbed Advena's by the shoulders to steer him so he faced Sam.

"First off, Cas isn't here, so he doesn't know what's up. Secondly, I don't believe it, not for a moment, I wouldn’t be able to come up with a whole personality, even if I decided not to give you a backstory, so don't worry about it, okay? Thirdly, if you are a figment of my imagination, at least you kind of get back at me because that makes me kind of more narcissistic than I ever knew."

The end had Advena smiling, no matter how reservedly, and he shook his head, trying to clear the smile that had traitorously etched itself on his face. “So what then? I’m… if I heard correctly, king of Hell?”

Sam shuddered, “No, you’re _not_. Neither is Lucifer, in case you’re wondering. Probably, somehow you got sucked into the dream with me and…him. To be honest, when you described what you remembered, it sounded a little familiar, the birdsong part, at least. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that’s it. Maybe he decided to pull you in with him and he couldn’t manage it with whatever spell Cas is talking about.”

"Who was the cat guy anyways, Cas?” Advena said curiously as they resumed walking.

Sam sighed, "He's a friend. And an angel." When that was met with silence, he turned to see Advena inclining his head, caught between shock, doubt, and acknowledgement, "Yeah, actually, that only surprises me _that_ much with you," He said finally, after processing it.

They continued in silence for a beat before -

"So Lucifer is...?"

Sam closed his eyes and felt some of his muscles tremble when he clenched his hands, "Yeah. Yeah, Satan is in this dream with us. Which is terrifying."

Advena noted the sudden change in Sam's demeanor, and led them towards a quieter place. He saw the teacup ride, and how it was more or less empty, and headed there with a brooding Sam in tow.

Once they were inside the slowly revolving machinery, he murmured, "So the devil is in your dream because...?"

Sam sighed, upset, and dragged one of his hands through his hair, "It's... it's complicated."

Advena snorted, "Wow, you dated Satan. That's gotta be one hell of an ex."

Sam shook his head, almost smiling, but not quite, "No, but it _is_ pretty safe to say he wants me only for my body.”

Advena waited for him, knowing that there wasn’t going to be much explaining on his end.

Sam took a deep breath, “Okay, so this is gonna sound crazy -“

“Which is ridiculous, its not like a cat doll gained sentience in your hands a while ago -” Advena pipes up.

“-Just let me explain. It might take a while.”

“Okay, so challenge: do the condensed version for the teacup ride?”

Sam shook his head smiling, “Okay whatever.”

In the end, it took several rounds for him to get anywhere near enough to explain it. And he kept getting off track and on tangents so by the time he’s covered some poor version of the basics, he knows he’s missing some important things. But Advena, ever curious, is asking away, and he knows eventually they’ll figure it out.

Even if he’s terrified.


	18. Chapter 18

Advena sighed, "Ok, so I know Satan and devil are interchangeable with Lucifer but maybe actually they're different?" 

Sam looked up to regard Advena incredulously, "What." 

Advena tilted his head, "I don't remember a lot, but call me a bible geek I think I actually _know_ that they're different?" 

On his face was a look of intense concentration, as if slow memories were sifting into his mind. This was one of the times. Advena was knowing something but still forgetting how he knew it. 

Sam sat up, "No, pretty sure they're all the same." He’d long discarded the idea that Advena was a leftover vessel. He’d need to be human for that. Still, Sam wasn’t the expert, so he could be wrong. 

Advena frowned still squinting into the distance as if he could glean more, "Was Lucifer really evil, though?" 

Sam looked at him incredulously, which made Advena add defensively, "No, seriously, I know Satan and the Devil are evil dudes, but Lucifer was the brightest angel in heaven." 

Sam sighed, "And he rebelled." 

"Hey, a little rebellion can be healthy for a young, developing...angel...guy." 

Sam snorted, "Not when it's against _Heaven_.” 

Advena inclined his head, "Okay, maybe not so much." 

After a moment of quiet pondering, he said suddenly, "Hey, wait, why can't any of the angels get you out? Don't tell me they're not enough to take on Lucifer all together." 

Sam winced, "Okay, so maybe we don't have Heaven's whole support because it turns out they're assholes who _want_ the Apocalypse." 

"Not even touching the subject of _Apocalypse_ , why are you working with Cas, which, by the way, is not what I would have guessed to be an angel name." 

Sam chuckled, "Okay so Cas - and it's actually Castiel, we just call him Cas - isn't really with Heaven any more." 

Advena stared at him. Stared at him long and good. 

When the ride squeaked to a halt, he was still staring at Sam. 

They got out. 

Sam finally threw up his hands, "Okay, what? What is it?" 

Advena chirped, "So let me get this straight, Casteel -" 

"Castiel." 

"Right, Castiel, he rebelled against Heaven, which is actually full of dicks who want to end the world and Lucifer _also_ rebelled against Heaven, which I'm guessing is the same Heaven, but he's the only one who is evil?" 

Sam sighed, "There wouldn't _be_ an Apocalypse to worry about if Lucifer didn't want to end the world. Heaven just supports him for now, is all." 

”How do we know... wait but he didn't always want to end the world, right? Maybe they made him like that." 

Sam shrugged, "I never met Lucifer before he wanted to destroy all the humans and demons. Maybe he was a nice guy before then, I don't know. All I know is, now he wants to kill everyone, and he wants to use me to do it." 

"Why does he need you?" 

”I’m his 'perfect' vessel." 

"Ok...ay. That means...?" 

"Angels don't have physical forms. They need a human to agree to house them before they can -" 

"So when you said he only wants you for your _body_ …” Realization dawned on Advena’s face. 

”Yeah.” Sam huffed, shortly. 

”I bet that's not only it, though. I mean, he must _really_ like you if he calls you perfect to your face.” Something about that was worded strangely, but Sam didn’t dwell on it. 

"No, it's literally the truth." 

"Wow, and you're surprised to find out you're narcissistic?" 

Sam shoved a grinning Advena playfully, "No, I'm _not_ perfect. I'm his perfect _vessel_." Immediately, his demeanor faded, and he seemed upset. Advena quietly mourned it, barely understanding what it meant to Sam. 

"Hey, so what? You seem awesome. Maybe he's almost equally as awesome, just has a slight murderous streak?" He said half jokingly. 

Sam couldn't prevent the sad, small smile that protruded at that, but he sighed, "I've only met him twice, and both times, he was trying to manipulate me by appearing in my dreams as my dead fiancé." Something died in Sam's eyes, and Advena felt something prickling inside his chest. His eyes ached, as if they wanted to cry. 

"Sam, I'm so sorry." He whispered. 

Sam shrugged it off, and grinned, "It's okay, it was a while back," But it didn't meet his eyes. 

In fact, his eyes were still missing the tiny pinprick of light that had been there before by the time the retired at the motel.


	19. Chapter 19

“So what’s our plan?” 

Sam shrugged, “Hell if I know. Maybe we should just keep going town by town?” 

“Yeah, that’s effective. Hey, how about you run for president and when he sees you on TV you tell him to fuck off?” 

Sam snorted, “Shut up.” 

Advena grinned, “I’m not hearing any ideas from you.” 

Sam shook his head, “You know what, going town to town sounds like our plan for now.” 

Advena booed, then they continued in silence. Suddenly he chuckled, “Hey, but President Winchester is plan B, right?” 

Sam ignored him, but he was laughing quietly under his breath, chin tucked into his collar.


	20. Chapter 20

They were laying in the park. It was night. 

Almost romantic, but really Sam had left his motel card key in the room and there wasn’t anyone at the desk and when he’d realized Advena had wandered outside instead of going back, he joined him. Told him about when he was a kid and he and Dean would just sit outside and watch the stars. 

Somehow they got to this. 

“What are we doing, Sam?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s like that movie Inception. Maybe we’re going to end up old and grey and then we’ll wake up and it’ll be freaky.” 

“I never saw that movie.” 

“It sounds perfect for you.” 

“Sam, you know how we thought I wasn’t human -“ 

“Advena, don’t” 

“-what if I’m _really_ not real at all?” 

Sam had gotten up without another word and walked inside to find someone had returned. He got the key, went upstairs, and went inside. Advena watched the sky until morning, trying to remember who he was supposed to be.


	21. Chapter 21

Two months. Two months of parading around, Sam half hoping they wouldn’t find him. Wherever he was, he wasn’t where Sam was, and all he could do was secretly be glad. 

Advena had fully settled into whatever person he was supposed to be. Soft, funny, insistent. Kind of a dick when he wanted to be which was when they were around other people. Sarcastic to a C, honest, stubborn. 

Sam was very very afraid that he was describing himself. Because he was starting to go crazy with the whole, “Maybe I’m all in your head.” Schmeel that Advena liked to spout. Sam thinks sometimes the only reason Advena stops is because he can see Sam is losing it. 

_There’s something wrong with me_ is the first thing Sam thinks when he wakes up in the morning and sees Advena sprawled on the bed across from him. 

And it’s so domestic, so ridiculously, insanely normal. Buy groceries, work honestly - when they can - play pool, watch movies, read books, wander around. Go to the pound. 

They went to the pound. 

Sam got to pet lots of puppies. That’s not what happens to Sam. Domestic is not what he gets. And it all makes sense now - of course the only place he would get to have this is in a dream. And he’s starting to get afraid of waking up. Because that’s all he had ever wanted, and it’s right here. He has it. 

But of course, something had to happen to stop him. A catalyst would roll along and destroy it. 

It happened one day when he was unloading groceries from the car. They’d gotten a car. _Stolen_ is a more accurate word for it, but Sam doesn’t like it and it’s a damn dream anyways, so he refuses to feel guilty. Even though he can’t quite remember its a dream whenever he pays money or goes on a hunt. 

He still won’t let Advena go on hunts. 

Advena had rushed out to help him. This is a sign. Not that Advena isn’t normally happy to help him - it’s kind of freaky how happy Advena is to do boring things like laundry. To learn about it, scoff about humans, then spend three minutes meticulously folding a lopsided shirt. But he didn’t normally run outside to help. 

Advena grabs the Trader Joes bag from him and babbles as they walk inside, “So I heard about this summoning ritual thing.” 

Sam groans internally, “You heard it or you looked it up online.” 

Advena places it on the table, beginning to unpack, “Yes.” 

A sigh, as he crosses his arms and watches Advena anxiously unpack, “Advena- ” 

He’s already halfway through the bag, “Hear me out, so it’s a demon-“ 

“ _Advena_ -” He says sharply, ending it because Advena is nervous and for good reason. 

Except it’s not settled, Advena slams the soup can on the table, and Sam says, “No. It’s too dangerous -“ 

“ _It’s the demon of memories_.” 

They stare at each other. Sam feels guilt rise up like goosebumps. He looks at the corn chowder that somehow burst from the can in Advena’s grip. His hands are white they’re clenched so hard. He sags, grabbing the towel from the sink and beginning to mop it up, Advena lets go of the can - or whats left of it - in shock, slowly coming to himself. 

He silently watches Sam clean up. When Sam rises from the floor, head bowed, he says, “Sam, what _am_ I?” And it breaks Sam’s heart. 

“Okay.” Sam hears himself distantly whispering, “Okay.” 

It’s a very simple word. It could mean anything. It’s drawn out the way any admission is, short but hanging in the air, ringing in their ears, long after it’s gone. Advena’s head snaps up, eyes wide. 

Advena rushed forward to hug him. Sam sighed, bending into it, throwing the towel into the sink. Advena looked up at him, promising a soft “We can make this work.” Sam snorted, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, that’s what they all say.” 

He should have known that was when it was going to end.


	22. Chapter 22

The summoning ritual fails. 

Sam doesn’t have enough time to remind himself it’s a dream before the demon laughs and disappears. 

He barely has a moment to be glad they’re not dead when he hears the distant growling.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone mentioned that I had maybe kind of accidentally posted chapter 14 and 15 exactly the same. So I went back to fix it and also found out I completely missed a couple chapters. I mean, you don't have to go back, but I skipped a couple from 10 onwards so, you know, it's up to you if you want to read them. I mean, you know, before you read this or whatever*. (edit: 12/26/14)

When the hounds scream through the street, they can see them, the afternoon sun at their warped, ugly backs casting long, reaching shadows their way. 

Sam didn't the world was capable of concocting such terrible things, but there they are. 

_Hell hounds_.

They’re out in the open in the park, and they need to get anywhere else. They run, back into the city streets, through the alleys, in the shadows. When they run into a dead end, that's when something breaks, breaks inside him. 

"Advena, I’ll stay.” He orders, and his friend, who had been searching for a plausible escape whirls around to face him. 

"What the hell, Sam? You think I'm leaving you?" He says angrily, and Sam shakes his head, "Don't argue. This is my dream. I don't think you're just a part of my head, okay? So if you die in here, who knows what will happen to you." 

Advena glares at him, "I'm not leaving you. Maybe I _am_ just in your head, Sam. Maybe I'm nothing more that that." 

And that might be what this is. All of it. The wild baying of the hellhounds drawing closer is just meant to terrify, to force something out of them, those last confessions, so that these thoughts they would have held on to as long as possible will be shared now instead. 

"Don't say that." Sam says sharply, just dangerously enough that maybe it's more than what he wants to admit and then neither knows how to proceed. 

Advena huffs, and leaps onto a trashcan so he can reach a window sill. He turns around carefully, "What the hell are you waiting for? Give me your hand!" Advena reaches out, and Sam pauses, "They'll just keep chasing me." He says, before starting forward and being pulled up so they shift uncomfortably until Advena climbs on top of the building, "Yeah, yeah, or they'll just keep chasing _me_.” He retorts, turning around and again helping to pull Sam up. 

They start running again, over the tops of buildings, until the howling is faint - but still there. 

"We're never gonna get away." Sam whispers when they stop to catch their breath, peering over the edge of a building, knowing he can’t see them, but that it hardly matters. He remembers Dean. He remembers all the blood. 

He had seen them. They weren't _hounds_. They were something else entirely. He can’t believe his mind would come up with something like that. 

They press themselves up against a brick wall, which was casting a shadow that cloaked them and half the building in shade and quiet. 

Silence comes, prickling on their skin, and it drives terrible paranoia into their stomaches. _Where are the hounds?_

"Sam -" 

"Don't." 

Advena leans forward to glare at Sam. 

"We both know I'm not -" He begins before Sam claps a hand to his mouth. 

"Yes, yes you are." Sam snarls, and maybe his voice is unsteady, and he's being irrational and they both know there is something more that isn't being said. 

Advena pulls Sam's hand off easily, "There is absolutely no reason for me to be here. I don't have a memory because I didn't exist until now." Sam is shaking his head, and he's about to put his other hand over Advena's mouth, but Advena is prepared this time, and catches it resolutely. Sam attempts to free his hands for a few moments before deflating. 

"No." He says softly, sadly. 

Advena doesn't think it's fair. It's _not_ , it's not fair. 

He's _alive_ , he can tell he's alive, he can feel and think and breath and _feel_ , and this should be hurting _him_ more, Sam doesn't get to be sad, Sam gets to keep on living. 

Sam gets to keep on _existing_. 

But something inside him is breaking because Sam is shaking. 

It's so minute. So tiny. Sam doesn't notice, but Advena can feel the tremors in his arms, can see it in the way Sam unsteadily rocks on his heels, head bowed. And he wants more than anything not to make Sam sad and it would be so much _easier_ for him if Sam wasn't sad. 

"Please, please don't be sad." He pleads, and Sam is laughing, but it's harsh and broken and too bright and too much. 

"Don't be _sad_?" Sam says, "Sure, why not, that's easy, just snap my fingers and everything is okay!", and the voice that rolls off his tongue is heavy with the drag of tears on his throat. 

And it's not fair, but they can hear the barking and the snarling start up again, and then they're pressed back against the cool stone, each listening to their heart thudding in their chest and wondering how it could possibly be any different from the heart of the person next to them, how could it make any difference? 

"Sam -" He tries again, but it's like a lighter on kerosine oil and a Sam is pressing himself off the wall to snarl, to fight, even though what he's fighting can't be fought, because the only one here is Advena and he's just watching, just waiting. 

” **Why do you exist!?** ” Sam screams, "What the hell, I didn't come up with you, I couldn't have!" 

Advena flinches away from the rage, from the wrath he knows is directed at him but not meant to be. It's pain disguised as wrath. Something inside of him recognizes that, knows it intimately. 

He feels the need to do whatever he can to stop Sam from this, because he can see the tears and they're tearing him up inside, "Sam, it's okay-" 

" _Okay!?_ " Sam roars, "How is it okay?!" 

”Stop." Advena commands, "Just stop, please, stop." And it's the waver in his voice that snaps Sam out of it, and it's the weakness in his eyes when he can't look at Sam and he's trying to hold himself together but for what? _He doesn't exist._

Sam walks forward until he's hugging Advena, and Advena hugs back because nothing is okay. 

Advena hears a soft, mumbled, "Narcissist." before Sam draws away, wiping his eyes. 

He sees them, then. 

The hounds. 

Rushing over in waves, onto the building tops in the distance. Immediately, his weakness is forgotten. 

"Sam, run." He says. 

“What?" Sam starts, twisting to look at the creatures racing down the building tops. 

"Go." Advena says. 

"No, you fucking-" 

"Sam, please, let me do this. Get out of here." 

"No." Sam growled, until he was in Advena's face, ferocity sparking in his eyes. 

Advena shakes Sam, then, hoping to rid them of this idiocy, this insanity, to push Sam away from the danger that is howling at them, too close. 

”Why!? Why can you not-" He starts, and it hits something in Sam, a rifle shot neither wanted to hear piercing something soft in the hunter's heart. His hands reach out and snap like a snake, pulling Advena closer. 

" _Because I love you!_ " Sam whispers into Advena’s hair, “ _Because I'm happier with you than I can remember being in too fucking long. Because if you're not real, what does it **matter**? Because if you **die**_ -" 

And here Sam chokes, and those eyes, all silver green and so easy on his own, the wilderness, hungry and beautiful, ever reaching and waiting, so gentle and strong, flick up to meet Advena's. 

" _I might as well say yes to him_.” comes the admission, so terrible, so quiet into Advena's ear, and it should make Sam crumble, this secret he was afraid to admit even in the confines of his own mind, but instead, his resolve seems to hum to life, to remind him. 

He turns to face the oncoming hoard, and no, _**no**_ , Advena will not watch this, because Sam had named it. 

Inside him, Sam had named the thing that was twisting and curling and crying out. 

He _loved_ Sam. 

The creatures were only a hundred feet away now, so close. 

And he had just barely begun existing, but there it was. 

They were too close. 

He threw himself in front of Sam yelling, " _How can you expect any less from me you ass?! How can you ask me to let you die for me!?_ " 

They struggled there, but Advena was stronger, and he shoved Sam back, even as they heard claws clack on the roof tops. 

"Advena get out of here! _**Leave!** ”_ Sam screeched, shoving, shaking, and Advena saw they were coming and laughed, ugly and angry, because in the end it didn't matter. They were both too stupid. And he held Sam close and kissed him and begged him, 

"Run." 

And he turned to face the beasts that were leaping toward them - 

and then the light hit. 

And then everything went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Now you don't wanna go back, do you? See, this is what happens.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dean_

Dean was cutting onions in the kitchen, even though it’s less equipped to feed than a kid’s mini microwave baking kit. That was Bobby for you. His diet consisted of alcohol and coffee - _sometimes both at once!_

He chops quietly, quickly. He’d been going out and buying groceries. Sam used to do all that. Now it’s down to him. He hasn’t hunted in all this time so why not? 

It’s been four months since Sam became the next coma victim on Dr. Sexy. The chances that they were going to be beset upon by a hoard of assholes was at the critical maximum peak. 

And yet… 

Nothing. 

No demons, hell, no angels, appearing out of nowhere to beat on their asses. He’s thankful, but he doesn’t know what to be thankful _at_ anymore. Castiel is taking his slipping grace badly. Which is to say, he won’t talk about it, and is instead suffering it with quiet, stubborn, useless dignity. Until Dean mentions it, in which case he flaps the fuck off to who knows where without a word. 

Sam is in the other room. Has been, since six weeks ago. Castiel moved him when it became obvious he wasn’t waking up. He visits every other day to check Sam’s vitals, fix his insides so his body doesn’t realize it hasn’t eaten or drunk in four months and just ceases to work. 

He abruptly puts the knife down. His hand is shaking. 

“Fuck.” He hisses quietly to himself. 

He wipes his eyes. Damn fucking onions. He so fucking done with everything. 

Who thought it would be domestically cutting onions that would make Dean Winchester break down after all the shit he’s been through? 

He suddenly hears a soft noise behind him. He rubs his eyes a fuckton because Bobby’s not supposed to be back yet and he cannot have Bobby think this is some meltdown. It’s the goddamn onions. 

He’d just wanted to make a damn burger. 

He wipes his hands, picks up the knife and regards the half of the remaining onion suspiciously and is about to go back to cooking. He calls out as nonchalantly as he can, “Hey Bobby if you want a custom Dean Winchester burger, you can get your ass over here and open the buns.” The answer he hears is a hoarse, “Dean..?” 

He drops the knife. 

That isn’t Bobby.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sam_

Sam is trying not to think. 

But it’s not a manner of thinking - it’s a manner of _**knowing**_. 

And he knows. 

For the first time that day, he is left alone for more than five minutes. He can’t blame Dean - four whole months - but Dean ran out to get some pie or something with the strict promise that he will not sleep until Castiel answers the damn prayer and says it’s all clear, and also not to die or disappear because he will go berserk. 

He looked like he had been crying. 

Sam takes a couple of shaky, deep breathes, he feels tears squeeze his throat and no - no. He is not going to do this. He refuses. His elbows on his knees, his fingers in his hair, his palms pressed up to his eyes to lock the tears in. 

It’s just so fucking _typical_. 

He’d fallen in love with himself. That was awful. That was terrible. It was beyond fucked up. Except not really. It was actually _worse_. Because with Sam, everything had to be worse. 

He’d fallen in love with Lucifer. 

He bites the insides of his mouth, tastes blood, copper and warm. 

“Fuuuuck!” He screams at the empty house, letting the spare tears squeeze out and then refusing the rest. He lays back on the couch, desolate inside. 

He wonders about Lucifer. 

No, that’s not true. 

He wonders about Advena. 

And then he wonders how they became the same thing


	26. Chapter 26

Castiel tells them that the spell is officially pulled down - it is better that Sam face the threat prepared then face the same crisis again - he is losing his grace, and he isn’t sure if he’d be any help in the long term anyways. 

Dean makes burgers for dinner, and forces Castiel to eat with them. 

He seems to enjoy it. 

At least, as far as Dean can tell about the faces he makes at the food once he eats it. 

Sam is terrified of going to sleep, but he’s so pissed at Lucifer he knows that if he does fall asleep, he’s not completely lost - if you hold onto your rage, things can seem surprisingly clear. 

But Lucifer doesn’t visit his dreams. 

He doesn’t know what he expected. He knows eventually Lucifer will do it again. 

He’s just not sure he’ll be ready.


	27. Chapter 27

When he opens his eyes, laying on a bed in a familiar room, he automatically knows. 

This is how they always start. 

He sits up, swings his legs over the edge. Sees Lucifer standing casually - or the illusion of it- staring out of the window. Somehow, everything inside goes. The fear. _Fuck_ , the fear. That he’s in love with Lucifer and Lucifer knows. The _rage_. Building for weeks inside his chest. 

It dies. He is empty. Calm. 

He is not going to speak. He will not make it easier for Lucifer. Even devoid of emotion, he can be vengeful, it seems. Lucifer turns to find a blank face watching him. He can’t seem to say anything. 

Finally - “ _Sam _.”__

 _ _It’s cruel how that’s all it takes.__

 _ _

There they are, suddenly; Emotions, flushing down his throat and through his chest. Sam closes his eyes against the involuntary weakness. His face barely changes, and yet it’s a storm on calm seas, so obvious, tensing, biting the insides of his cheeks, eyebrows knitting, chin wrinkled against the tears, castle doors barricaded against a battle almost lost. 

Lucifer is suddenly there, kneeling at his side, one knee down, the other up, hands outstretched as if to touch Sam’s face. Never making it. Because they stop and Sam doesn’t know what to do. 

His face tightens further, eyebrows accusing Lucifer, he knows the tears are there, slipping through the cracks of self control in his eyes and he’s biting the insides of his mouth because he will not say anything to Lucifer for as long as he can. 

Lucifer’s own face contorts, and this seems so human, so weak. This is the face he wore that Sam grew to love. Advena. _This is Advena_. 

He tried not to speak, but the words betrayed him, slipped out of his mouth, the back door to the castle, letting the tears in all the while. 

“ _Why?_ ” He gasps out, “ ** _Why?_** ” 

Somehow his hands raise and across his face, as if - too late - to catch the words and force them back in. 

Lucifer is turned away. He might be crying. Is that possible? Is it real? 

Maybe it’s all a dream. 

This time the hands do not pause, tender against his cheeks, pulling him close into an embrace. Because there are no words. As soon as he asks it, he knows. His heads bowed into the crook of Lucifer’s neck, even though he’s taller, because it feels safe. Even though it’s the farthest place from safe. Because he’s all the closer to words that will cut him up inside. 

“ _I love you, **I love you** , Samuel Winchester what have you done to me? _” The words are pressed into his skull by a shaky voice, and Sam doesn’t even try to answer. Almost against his will, his arms raise up and cross in an X over Lucifer’s back, holding him, feeling the vibrations along his spine and the trembling of his muscles as Lucifer cries softly.__

 _ _He knows what he _used_ to want to say. He wanted to ask Lucifer to change for him, to be better. Not the Apocalypse. Not the end of the world. Not ‘ _yes_ ’. But those words lost footing in his mind - they’re lost in the hollow tunnel of his throat, unable to journey up and out because Lucifer has already changed. Now he’s not the intimidated, impartial party that gets to demand things with disregard for what he’s asking. He didn’t know then. He’d thought Lucifer was as Lucifer did. __

__

How wrong he’d been. 

Different words escape first, from the tangled maze of his intestines where he’d tried to hide them away from the air. 

“ _ **I love you.**_ ” It squeezes out, makes him breathless even though this isn’t the first time they’ve heard him say it, even though he knows achingly that it won’t be the last. 

Lucifer’s breath comes out in a long, ragged exhale, as if he’d been holding his breath until he heard it. As if he hadn’t been quite expecting it. His arms tighten, squeeze a little as if angry at himself because he’s already made up his mind and a part of him is furious about it. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a very simple word. It could mean anything. It’s drawn out the way any admission is, short but hanging in the air, ringing in their ears, long after it’s gone. Sam’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He knows what it means deep down but he’s too afraid. Too confused. It’s a very simple word. 

It could mean everything. 

Lucifer leans back, taking a soft breath before looking up at Sam steadily with a tired gaze. 

“No Apocalypse.” 

Neither of them are quite prepared for the dream collapsing in on itself as Sam blacks out.

__

__


	28. Chapter 28

Sam wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, breathing heavily. Dean, who has refused to sleep in his bed, insists he has to keep watch every other day, is across the room in the armchair. His eyes flick open, expression only briefly befuddled before he’s up and walking quickly across the room to the distressed Sam sitting still in shock. 

“Sam? _**Sam**_.” The second time he says Sam’s name is edged in fear, dipped in the opaque color of horror. Sam snaps out of it, looking his brother in the eyes. He hears in Dean’s voice the times he broke. When Bobby and Castiel were out. When he begged Sam to wake up and no answer came. 

__

“I don’t know.” Sam mumbles to answer the question Dean is about to ask. 

__

“What is it?” Dean’s hand finds itself on one of Sam’s arms, neither of them noticing, he is kneeling by the couch, just as moments before Lucifer had, looking at Sam for any injuries but it’s with a sinking feeling in his stomach because lately all of Sam’s wounds have been on the inside. Nothing he could see. Nothing he could fix. 

__

How long had he watched Sam, thinking, _he looks fine. He looks healthy. Why won’t he get up?_

__

Sam suddenly leans forward and hugs Dean, who is experiencing a slight moment of heightened terror. “Did he visit you? Sam? Sam, what happened?” Sam sags, out of relief rather than defeat. 

__

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t.” 

__

“Then what the hell is this?” Dean struggles out of the embrace to look his brother in the eyes. 

__

Sam flops over in a fit of hysterical laughter. Dean is about to restrain him and call Bobby down, but before he can it’s over. Sam heaves a sigh. 

__

“Fuck. I don’t want to go back to sleep.” Is what he mumbles exhaustedly from under one of his arms. 

__

Dean watches him. This is the little brother that said _Dean_ first before _John_. This is the boy who stayed up late on homework, writing an essay on _The Great Gatsby_ for a class he spent two weeks in before they had to leave again. This is the boy he would die a thousand times to protect, sell his soul for, battle through Hell for. 

__

“Okay.” He says, getting up, motioning that Sam do the same. Sam sits up and follows him obediently. He opens a couple drawers until he finds what he’s looking for and pulls out a worn pack of cards. 

__

“Bobby!” He hollers up the stairs because he knows the old man isn’t asleep yet, “Get your ass down here take a damn break!” 

__

They sit in the middle of the room, playing gold fish, for the rest of the night. 

__

Dean wishes Castiel had been there with them.

__


	29. Chapter 29

Sam gets up early that morning. He gets dressed, leaves a note informing Dean he needed to go out just for the sake of it, and scurries out the back door before guilt can trip him on his way out. 

He drives one of Bobby’s extras until he gets to town. He gets out and walks into the park, hands stuffed into his pockets, a smattering sunlight through the leaves across his body. 

It’s pleasant. 

Because it’s a week day, no one is out. He owns the trees, and the trees own him. He walks down to a stream - a tiny, weak little gurgle of water, and contemplates it. Something hollow is being made by the park. Too sweet, too kind, too gentle. 

He feels the ache build up quietly, the urge to share. Some part deep inside him thinks he knew all along that it was going to end like this. 

He walks in the silence before finally giving in. 

_I pray to thee Lucifer, that you may join me for a stroll in a park._

He keeps walking, feeling the tightness in his chest build up. When nothing happens, he stops. Walks up to a tree and all but collapses at its base. He sits there, legs laid out, hands in his lap, digging into each other, white knuckles like the day Advena convinced him to do the damn ritual. 

“Please, Lucifer.” He says mostly to himself, “Don’t do this to me.” 

His head bows forward, chin to his chest, eyes closed, miserably sitting in a park feeling the ache of being alone. He barely notices that one by one, the birds fall silent. 

He opens his eyes, blinking to dislodge the tears that had started to form on his lashes, looking up to see someone standing quietly in front of him. 

Lucifer gently sits down, a fluid motion of grace that Advena had lacked. His skin looks sick. 

One hand tenderly reaches out and Sam’s rises to meet it. 

The silence is deafening. Safe. 

A tiny noise escapes Sam’s throat, destroyed under the pressure of the silence, but he’s already throwing himself at Lucifer, and Lucifer is already there, arms wrapped around him, kind and warm. 

“Lucifer.” He whispers into the crook of his neck. He never thought he’d say that name that way, but it doesn’t feel half as unfamiliar as it should. 

“No more Apocalypse.” Lucifer promises into his hair, “No more. We can do this.” His voice wavers on the end. 

Sam just holds him closer, then gives a little laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He mumbles, swallowing, “That’s what they all say.” 

This time, however, he has no doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _FIN_


End file.
